Sabretooth belong to Marvel, all others are of my own creation.
Reviews and constructive criticism welcome.
Creed leaned into the wall with his ear flush against the paper. He could hear the beating of two hearts. Calm. His targets were asleep in the adjacent motel room. The smell of old cigarette smoke permeating from the walls, the rug, the furniture, tickled his nose as he pushed back and turned to lean against the wall. He folded his thick arms over his chest and frowned to himself while he thought.
What rich scumbag would stay in a dive like this place? They hadn't picked up any street walkers or drugs, there didn't seem to be any dirty deals being cut…in fact, it really did feel like Mr. and Mrs. Joe Blow were just taking a cheap cross country trip for the summer. He hadn't liked the set up of this job since he got off the plane. Everything about it was fishy and his intuition wouldn't let him rest easily.
Emma folded down the corner of her magazine to watch him from the queen bed they would be sharing that night. They had been tailing the other couple for a week now, rather Emma would follow them during the day and at night Creed would meet her in whatever dump they stopped at for the night. She was sporting a healthy tan on her face and shoulders, a bit of a burnt spot in her nose, and her freckles were standing out from all the sun exposure. She was still grumpy from having been stuck wandering the Grand Canyon for three hours while the sight-seeing couple took their ever-loving time taking photos that would inevitably be awful on their old Fujifilm camera. Emma had called him once back in her car to vent at him while he sat in a diner eating greasy eggs, waiting for the next check point to drive to.
They were both sick of this chase, if it could even be called that. But the client had been very specific that sometime this week, Mr. and Mrs. Roadtrip would visit Nevada and that's where they had to be killed. In fact an extra ten grand required it. This confused Creed because there was little chance of his targets escaping his pursuit, in fact, they appeared to be completely oblivious to being followed. He was easy to pick out in a crowd, any idiot would have been able to tell Creed was following them, but after the last week, he wasn't so sure about these two.
"What?" He snarled at her, frustrated. He was still conscious of the fact that his left eye was black and yellow while he right eye had its normal green iris. He knew it was freakish and unnerving, and normally he wouldn't care, but she was his wife, he was afraid of seeing disgust when she looked at him and the heartbreak it would cause him.
"I was thinking of grabbing some dinner. Hungry?" Emma lifted herself off the bed and went to her purse, then moved the curtains aside and peered out the window to search for the nearest restaurants. Creed grunted in response. "What would you like?"
"Meat." He turned back to the wall to check that everyone he left sleeping were still doing so.
"Looks like your choices are a gas station, The Sub Hut, and a donut place." She turned back to him only half expecting a response. "I'll see what I can do."
The door clicked softly behind her and now alone, Creed decided to take a shower to wash the day's heat and grime from his skin. They would switch shifts tomorrow and while he tailed the targets, he would make Emma find a Laundromat and a flipping grocery store so he could have some semblance of vegetables to eat that night.
The water ran cold before a whine from the pipes began to heat up the shower. He let it hit him right in the face before running his hands through his hair and fumbled for the teeny bar of soap allotted to each room. The water pressure was weak and provided nothing more than a general sprinkling. Creed found himself missing his own shower at home and realized with a hint of disappointment that he had turned into a creature of comfort.
As he washed under his arms, a nerve-wracking high pitched noise caused him to cover his ears. Someone was cutting glass. The noise stopped and he heard the click of the door being unlocked and opened slowly. Creed had about one full minute to make a decision. Leaving the shower on, he grabbed a towel to give himself a quick once over. He chucked it away into the running shower then deliberately walked avoiding being in front of the crack under the bathroom door, where the intruders would see his shadow.
This was not the first cramped and awkwardly designed motel room he had found himself in during his lifetime. Behind the bathroom door was a tiny closet with a few dented shutters. It was mostly silent as he pushed the gate aside and crammed himself inside next to the ironing board. Sitting on his haunches, he watched through the slits off the closet door with his fingers interlaced, waiting.
The bathroom door opened a crack, pulling the shower steam from the room. A finger appeared and turned out the lights. These clowns didn't know who he was. They were amateurs at best, he noted, when the door kicked back and the two men in ski masks barged into the room and raised shotguns at the shower stall, which they would have known was empty if they had looked into the mirror when entering. Three shots fired, some screams from outside wafted in.
The first jerk ran off after firing but the second one stayed around long enough to notice they had only managed to blow holes into the ceramic tiles on the wall. A car screeched loudly outside and a heavy thud followed by more screaming.
Only mildly shaken by the circumstances, the guy toting the shotgun took a look around the room. Noticing the closet, he closed the bathroom door slightly to access it. Unfortunately for him, Creed took that moment to fly from his hiding spot and slammed both fists up catching the guy's chin and knocking him back and unconscious into the toilet bowl. He took a step forward only to realize that many hotel patrons were peering at him, naked, from the parking lot, his front door wide open.
Emma ran in and scooped up his discarded jeans, throwing them at him and grabbing his arm, pulling him to the car. They grabbed their bags, always left packed for such instances and threw themselves into the car Creed had been driving last, the crowd parting for them.
"What was that?" She yelled over the sound of the crappy engine and the wind whipping through the open windows. He forced his legs into his jeans and squirmed to get them done up. Emma swore and ducked as he came close to elbowing her in the face.
"That, my dear, was an ambush." He grumped and pulled his dirty t-shirt over his head.
"It took them a week to ambush us?" Emma was still yelling out of anger.
"Did ya see the quality of them mercs?"
"Yeah, his blood ran yellow when I hit one of them with the other car."
They both calmed down over the next 10 miles and began debating whether they should stop for coffee and donuts or a gas station for soda and chips. Donuts won out. They didn't feel inclined to lay low after the attack back at the motel since they had both left their victims alive, and pulled into the next available Dunkin' Donuts. It was rather busy for 11pm. Creed had made sure to wear his sunglasses in to avoid the stares and identification.
Emma slouched down in one of the plastic seats with her chocolate milk and her box of donut holes while he slid in across from her with a huge coffee and a box of a dozen donuts proper. He perched his sunglasses on his head while they stared at the car out the window for a moment before beginning to eat. The locals were watching them over their own cups, but only out of mild interest.
"I have an appointment in New York next week. Did you want to come with me?" She popped a sugary piece of fried batter into her mouth and chewed softly.
Creed stared at her, trying to make sense of her question, looking for previously relayed information he must have forgotten. He found none. "English please?"
"I made an appointment with a fertility specialist in New York for next week. Did you want to fly out with me?"
"Yer fertile, Myrtle." He didn't mind digging for answers when he was in calm mood, and he was right on the cusp. Luckily for her, he was leaning away from irritation and fell back into the quiet moment.
"Well it's a little more involved than that. She specializes in pregnancies among mutants whose powers directly interfere with having a child."
"Like your healing factor." Creed nodded and started his fifth donut. He wished he had his cigarettes on him. "New York, huh? A little too close to the X-geeks for my likin'." He scratched his chin.
Emma swirled her milk and turned to look out the window again, running her fingers through her dark hair.
"Wait." Victor sat up in his seat. "You wanna have a baby?"
"Noooo," she corrected. "I want to have your baby."